Laws of Thermodynamics
by Ruthless Bunny
Summary: Set after 'Honeymoon'. The universe rattles on, even as your world crumbles. HouseCameron.


The Laws of Thermodynamics

With apologies to C.P. Snow

_You cannot win_

Cameron sat in stunned silence. The way that House had looked at Stacy and Mark Warner. All that naked desire and longing. She knew a little something about that. Her words echoed in her head. "_I thought that you couldn't love anyone. Now I know that you just couldn't love me_."

When she was younger she had wanted so desperately to know what it was like to see the world from someone else's eyes. Actually, she just wanted to know what they thought about her. She was shy, if by shy you mean: of the belief that everyone noticed everything about her. It was easy to blame herself for so many things, because she thought that she was at the center of everyone's universe.

Fundamentally she knew that if she gave something her attention, that it would flourish. It was a confidence born of experience. Indulged as a child, as so many beautiful children are, she soon learned that she deserved what she wanted. It was only as she grew older that she discovered that these gifts weren't permanent. And she lost everything.

Sitting alone in the dark of the conference room, the activities in the hospital swirled around her. She reviewed the case. In every instance she had been wrong. Wrong about the diagnosis, wrong about the testing, wrong about the patient. How could she have missed so much? Medical school had been a challenge for her. She spent hours and hours studying; and even at that, her grades were no better than those of the kids who coasted on charm and cram sessions. She would never have that divine spark. Which is why she wanted House so much. If she couldn't possess it one way, she'd possess it in another.

_You cannot break even_

Cameron had said something to him. She was like a hummingbird in a wind tunnel. Valiantly beating her wings, but ultimately arriving nowhere. There were moments when he thought that she got it. But then she'd return to the same methods, the same routines.

He was no better. Stacy had made it clear that there were no circumstances under which she would return to him. He also realized that he didn't want her either. He watched her with Mark, comforting him, promising him that she wouldn't treat him like she had treated… It didn't warrant consideration.

Memory is a funny thing. Your body remembers the touch, the flavor, the smell of a lover. Skin and muscle remember what the brain rejects. Love and sex are visceral. The physical craving to have her close to him, the intellectual disgust. Confusing. Better not to think. Better not to feel. At least for now.

_You cannot get out of the game_

Bad night. Night was usually bad. Darkness, loneliness, boredom. He hadn't made it to the bed. He slept on the sofa. His arms crossed over his chest. Legs elevated. The sun shone in brightly, forcing him to wake earlier than he normally might have. His familiar pain brought him back to where he was.

Where did he go in his dreams? To play lacrosse, to walk down a street, to recapture a time when he loved and was loved in return?

He lost it all. Like a child bankrupted in Monopoly, forced to sit and wait for the other players to finish.

He couldn't bring himself to end it. It wasn't superstition, or religion but curiosity. He would encounter something and for a brief moment he would be distracted and his body didn't exist, only his brain, only the problem, only the answer.

Not hell, limbo. Not quite living, not yet dead. It was hard, too hard, he needed something soft. _Cameron_, his brain shouted at him. He got up and went to the kitchen for water and a dose.

_First do no harm_. He knew that women did not emerge from relationships with him unscathed. He hated to admit that he too had wounds, far worse than the leg and more crippling.

He arrived early. Early enough to leave the lights off and sit in the dark. Early enough to startle her when she came in.

"Dr. House. You scared me." She had started and tried to regain her composure.

"I scare everyone." He sat staring at her intently.

A small smile played at her lips. "Big, bad wolf." She reached over to turn on the lights.

"Don't." He said simply.

She complied. "Bad night?"

"Aren't they all?"

"Coffee?" She turned to leave, expecting an answer.

He ignored the question, "You were wrong."

"Oh." She bit her lip. He knew that she was a fraud. She played at competence, but she knew that she didn't measure up. "Yes," she admitted, "You were right, about everything." If he wanted an excuse to fire her, he had more than one.

Confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"The case. The patient. I'm still not comfortable with your methods, but you're right. You're always right." She put her hand in the pocket of her lab coat, hoping to find something comforting there.

"Never say always. Never say never. Absolutes are for chumps." He stood and moved to her side of the desk. "I'm not talking about the patient. When do I ever think of a patient after I've diagnosed them?"

"I don't understand." She stared into his eyes and instead of his usual cold expression, she saw one of compassion.

"You were wrong about me. Are wrong. Will be wrong. I can do the pluperfect tense too. Have been wrong." He studied her face for signs of comprehension.

"About what?" He had seen this before, this defiance.

"What you said yesterday." He reached over to her chin and gently tilted her head up towards his. He leaned in and kissed her.

And defying the laws of physics, or perhaps confirming them, time stood still.


End file.
